Good for a Laugh
by J-chan the Maniacal
Summary: Lust and hate are two sides of the same coin. Sometimes the most diabolical thing a villain can do is make a hero enjoy his crime. Joker x Batman/Joker x Harley. Kinky!


Hard to say if the Joker was actually the first of my fangirl crushes, but he was certainly one of the earliest, well before the teenage years started making everything less innocent. Looking back on it, I think Harley Quinn may also have been one of my earliest girl-crushes. She was one of the few canon love-interests in any given series that I didn't passionately hate on virtue of that oldest of fangirl ailments known as "he's MINE *hiss, hiss*", because how could anyone possibly hate Harley? They remain one of my favorite couples in all of fiction, no matter how messed up their relationship may be.

This thing here? This is some weird fantasy that popped into my head. One of many. It just happened to get vented.

Warnings: Language, smutty smut of both the heterosexual and slashy varieties, BDSM/knifeplay/non-con/voyeurism with participation, the Joker being Joker. If any of that offends your sensibilities, you might want to vacate the ficcie. You've been warned.

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman. Just love violating it in fanfictional ways.

Notes: No particular versions of the characters are inferred, but I will note that, aesthetically, I myself was kinda picturing Suicide Squad-flavored incarnations while typing. That said, any versions that strike your fancy should be mercilessly headcanonned here.

x-x-x-x-x

It was a travesty that the one person in the world he loved, utterly and without prejudice, was the one soul he was forced to hate with the sort of loathing that could only come from meeting a diametrically-opposed force. It wasn't the pretty blonde snoring peacefully beside him in the dark of the makeshift bedroom as they waited out the inevitable storm that would follow this, their latest escape from the asylum (though he had fun inflicting every possible act of debauchery that a human being could endure without dying on that smokin' body). Nope, it was a man. The sort of man who could drive a guy absolutely... batty.

Scuffles always brought small experiences, memories of physical features that caught in his fractured psyche like shrapnel from one of his homemade bombs. Things he wanted to pin down, literally, so he could take the time to really study them. He would never get to do it. Bats had a real knack for Houdini-ing his way out of every trap the Joker sprang. Still, the idea of what he could do to that man given half the chance...

He peered down in the dark and could see the ghostly white impression of his own erection. Damn it. He frowned, thinking, pale teeth starkly nibbling at his red lip. A brow arched slightly, sly green eyes shifting to the unconscious body next to him. The amount of consideration he gave banging a sleeping woman was slight, but, for him, possibly indicative of some small measure of actual fondness for her. Ultimately, however, his own desires always trumped the needs of others, so it was with zero tact that he rolled her onto her stomach and started fucking her mercilessly from behind. She was wide awake within seconds, at first panicked, but when clarity hit her full on, she adapted to the situation with great enthusiasm. Ah, let it never be said that Harley Quinn could not handle a plot twist.

The Joker managed to _not_ utter the name of a particular Caped Crusader when he came, but not without effort. He collapsed on top of the blonde when it was over, panting against her neck.

"What," Harley moaned, breathing as hard as he was, "brought THAT on?"

"Never you mind." Why didn't he just tell her? It wasn't like she would care. He'd watched her sleep with at least half a dozen women over the course of their relationship, and seducing other men came as natural as breathing to a bombshell like her.

Her head turned on her pillow, catching his eye out of the corner of hers. He saw gears turning. Jesus, he'd forgotten she used to be a shrink. Most of the time she let things slide, but every once in a while, he'd say or do something that would set that brain off.

"It's the Bat, ain't it?" she finally deduced.

Fuck. He groaned, rolling off her to lie on his back, sprawled out in a pose of surrender. She lifted up onto her elbows, cradling her chin on her linked hands, looking smug now that she'd hit a bullseye.

"You like him, don'tcha?"

"I hate him."

"... But ya like him, too."

The Clown Prince of Crime glared at her icily. "Where are you going with this, doll?"

She shrugged a bit too playfully. "I can see the appeal, s'all." Harley shifted, curling into his side. She snaked a hand up to his chest, savoring every inch of skin along the way. "Y'know, puddin'," she began with a coy look, "if you wanted to try something new next time we spar with him, I could make a few suggestions...?"

A mad laugh rose involuntarily from his center. "Harley, baby, he'd slip any bonds we put on him."

"Not if we strip everything off before we tie him up." She smirked. "Everything but the mask."

Deliciously deranged thoughts began to swim nebulously through the green-crowned head of the Joker.

x-x-x-x-x

White, flashing pain was all he could remember between Harley Quinn clocking him with that oversized mallet and waking to find himself in total blackness. Batman tried to move and found that he couldn't. They had gone the extra mile and used both ropes, binding him to the chair, and no less than three sets of handcuffs to keep his hands out of the way. He shifted in the chair uncertainly, realizing with the first flickerings of real alarm that he was also naked... Though his mask was still safely in place.

Well, this was a new one. He frowned deeply. A door opened behind him, letting a faint stream of light into the room, accompanied by two easily-identified silhouettes.

"What's your game this time, Joker? Slow torture until I break?"

A low, dangerous chuckle was the only reply. The door closed behind them. Harley struck a match and began lighting candles. The room, he could see now, was full of them. The Joker circled around to his front, smiling serenely down at his captive. He wore only his pants and his jacket. The clown folded one arm across his bare chest, bringing his other hand up to rest on his own cheek. "Now this, my dear, is beautiful. Really, you've outdone yourself. To think I ever doubted you!"

"I aim to please, Mr. J." Harley winked at him, smiling proudly as she continued her circuit of the room. When the last candle was lit, she shook out the match and came to stand beside her lover. She was... in an incredibly skimpy set of red lace lingerie and fishnet stockings.

Batman came to the conclusion that this did not bode well. "What exactly are you plan-"

"Shh..." One white finger came to rest on those perfect, pretty-boy lips. It lingered a moment before taking a dive to explore the chiselled jaw below. "Don't spoil this for me, Batsie. I've waited too long to see you like this."

The Bat's jaw dropped. "... What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's pretty simple, actually," the Joker said, coming forward suddenly to drop onto his archnemesis' lap, straddling him. His arms wrapped around the man's neck. "You and me, Bats? We've got chemistry out the wazoo. You gonna try and tell me you don't feel it every time we spar, too? _Tsk-tsk_. We both know that'd be a lie. Now a fire like this, it's gotta be worked out somehow, otherwise we'll take the whole city down in the blaze." He licked his lips.

"Oh God." Batman's face became a mask of cold fear.

"Hey, that's my line!"

x-x-x-x-x

Harley sat back to enjoy the spectacle, smiling in approval. She always liked the idea of watching her beloved Puddin' screw around with another guy, but to have it be the B-man? Mmm-mmm... Naughty naughty, indeed. She bit her lip as Mr. J slipped off of his lap. She wouldn't jump in until he gave the okay. Doing otherwise would just get her smacked (and not in a good way). The Joker came to the table she was sitting on. He held a hand out expectantly. She reached beside her and selected a modestly-sized whip, dropping it into his waiting palm. She giggled as he thanked her with a kiss. He turned his attention back to his prize. He dragged the coiled leather gently across Batman's shoulder, over and down, letting it trail softly along his chest. He toyed with him in this fashion for a while, mouth curving into a grin when the other man's breaths started coming in erratic little puffs.

The leather stopped moving for a beat. The silence was palpable.

Lash one, which came swiftly, was gentle compared to lash two, and three was a caress next to lashes four and five. He worked the man over, leaving angry trails of scarlet on his body, though he was careful not to break the skin. Not yet. He wanted blood before it was over, but he had a plan for that. The pain barely made Bats break a sweat, as usual. The anticipation of what was eventually going to come, however, was making him nervous. The Joker wasn't sure what to make of that; he'd never seen the guy _this_ antsy. Sure, threaten the whole of Gotham and he doesn't bat an eye, but tell him you're going to make him feel like a virgin, he gets the shakes real quick. Probably should've given him a safeword, but he'd undoubtedly use it to stall for time or some other boring crap like that.

The Joker reached into his coat pocket, noting that his own hand was trembling just a teensy bit. Was he _that_ worked up by this? Maybe so. Whether it was the knowledge he was going to take the masked vigilante or the unspoken understanding that he was probably going to pay for doing so later, who cared? He was going to enjoy every minute of the ride. He retrieved a folding knife from the depths of the pocket and brought it out with a flourish. Bats' eyes hardened. So paranoid! Did he really think our lovable (anti)hero would stoop to shanking him like some common thug? The Joker lunged forward, grabbing him by the cowl, dragging his face close as he bent to run the blade across his cheek. No scars, he decided. Well, maybe one or two itty bitty ones, just along his ribcage. Better than lovebites for reminding him of the evening's festivities. But first...

He leaned in to capture the Dark Knight's mouth. The man resisted, of course, but that wouldn't last long. The knife bit into his cheek abruptly, and while he didn't make a sound, his lips did part for one fraction of a second. Long enough for an expert tongue to glide in and warm things up. There was a brief struggle, the very real threat of having his tongue bitten off in a pique, a number of snarls that most certainly were laced with threats of bodily harm (he shivered in pleasure at the idea that maybe a few were even death threats), but it was all token resistance. Once the Joker got his tongue inside, there wasn't even a snowball's chance in Hell for defiance. It took a few minutes, but the more muscular of the pair ended up losing the war between instinct and intellect, moaning into the kiss and instantly regretting it. He had just shown weakness to an enemy who was going to exploit it with demoniac glee.

The knife caught his shoulder next, leaving a small bloom of crimson on his healthy complexion. He made a deadly, slightly betrayed sound as the clown pulled back to smile wickedly at him. The blade next began tracing a perfect line between his pectorals, tiny droplets of blood rolling down his flawless physique. It would leave his skin, trail lightly, harmlessly over a patch of defenseless flesh, then bite smoothly, carving a path of beautiful, shallow wounds that would make an artist weep. The weapon dug in a bit as it left a final mark, traced like a signature, along the curve of one rib. The Joker lifted the gleaming metal to his mouth, licking it clean. He didn't need to look to know that the Batman was rock-hard. He dropped the knife.

The maniac fell to his knees, shrugging out of his jacket. He shot a lusty glance at Harley, pleased to see she was a rapt audience. She wouldn't have to wait too much longer. He looked down at his enemy, his captive, his temporary lover, what lay throbbing between his thighs. That he'd never done this with a guy didn't make any difference. He had a pretty good idea of what worked from letting Harley have her fun with his own manhood. He dipped low, his tongue darting out for a taste. A shuddering gasp escaped Bats. The clown took him whole into his mouth as a reward.

"Sh-Shit-!"

Another compliment? Very nice... He bobbed, at first a bit awkward with the new sensations, but as Harley started cooing encouragements from her seat, he gained in confidence. Precum hit his tongue and he swallowed it down, the motion drawing another unsteady breath from the Bat. He brought a hand up to fondle the other man's balls, and it earned another groaned curse. He fought down a laugh; if he did this right, the guy might give up crimefighting and come to the dark side.

He felt a shift and backed off, releasing the cock with a smirk. "Not yet, sweetheart. Save that for the finale." If looks could kill. Either the oral violation or the delayed release were making Bats _cran-ky_. Time to stop teasing him, perhaps.

Joker rose to his feet and unbuttoned his trousers, tugging the fly down with an elegant flick of the wrist. "Harley?" The bubbly blonde nearly squealed in her excitement. She snatched up a bottle of lube from the table and brought it to him. He shook his head. "You do the honors, baby."

"Ooh, Puddin'..." Harley wet her lips, looking from one man to the other. She squeezed a generous amount into her hand, and, much to B-man's surprise, started slicking up _his_ member. When he was ready, she turned to her lover and kissed him. He spread his feet apart and let her reach around to work a finger into his ass.

"Mmm... Not too much, my dear. I want to really _feel_ it."

She laughed, releasing him after a few moments. "Go slow, Puddin'. I don't want ya hurting yourself."

He pushed her away, not unkindly, and sat once more upon his captive's lap, his back to the other man's chest this time. He spread his legs wide. "Guide him in," he told his partner in crime.

"With pleasure, Mr. J!" She took hold of Bats' raging hard-on and guided the head towards his hole. The Joker stifled a groan as he was penetrated. He was doing it. He was living the dream. The thought was enough to make him giddy. Harley let go by degrees until her fingers drifted off the other man's cock to brush her Puddin's anatomy in passing. She stayed close now, not wanting to miss a second of the action. He started riding. The pain was intense at first, but not unbearable. It didn't take that long for the _other_ sensation to rise up in its place. Oh, it still burned like hell, but that only made the pleasure more intense as his body swallowed every inch of the crimefighter's swollen dick.

He rode Bats until the man was muttering alternating praises and threats between his gritted teeth, his eyes shut tightly against the truth that he was getting off on this. His hips tried to match the psychopath's movements with little success, since he was still tied quite securely.

"Cut the ropes," Joker panted.

Harley hesitated. "Are... Are you sure about that, Puddin'?" she asked, not sounding the least bit convinced that was a wise course of action.

"Cut them now, or so-help-me-!" His lover complied, and within seconds, the hips beneath him were driving up into him like a steam-powered piston, almost making him yelp with the intensity of the thrusts. He tossed his head back, throwing an arm back around the Caped Crusader's neck for stability.

Harley Quinn sucked in a breath. This was amazing... She reached down to ease her own desire. Watching all of this, she had grown unbearably wet. "Mr. J..."

He wagged a finger at her. "Don't you dare, babycakes. Not until I say so." She whined plaintively. He ignored it, intent on reaching his own climax with his foe. It attacked suddenly, wringing a strangled cry from him as he came messily over himself and the powerful thighs between his splayed legs. He felt heat spill inside him, feeling the Bat's growl as much as hearing it.

The Joker looked lazily at his girlfriend as the last waves receded, amused by her suffering whimpers. He glanced down. _I'll be damned_. He was still hard. He got up shakily, wincing at the loss of sensation as Bats' member was pulled from him. He roughly shoved Harley towards the table, bending her backwards over it, knocking everything off of it in the process. He tore her panties off and was inside her before she could prepare for it. Her legs wrapped possessively around him, forcing him deeper with every buck of his hips. He snaked a hand up to her face, letting her suck his thumb into her mouth while he gave her exactly what she craved. She came hard, milking the second orgasm right out of him.

Neither one of them was aware that, with the two of them occupied with each other at last, Batman had had the time to break the chair, work his arms under his legs, retrieve a spare pick from his cowl, and pick the locks on all three pairs of handcuffs.

Bent over Harley while he caught his second (third?) wind, the Joker became aware of a change in the air. He heard knuckles cracking behind him. He let out a tired laugh. "I wondered how long it'd take you this time." He turned to look at his former captive. At least he had made Bats blush, right?

He expected the punch, and was not disappointed when it came. Eh,what the hell, he deserved it. He knew this experience would cost him from the word go. He had made the Bat forget himself, just for a moment. For one glorious, treasured instant, they had been on equal footing. And the Dork Knight would _never_ forgive him for that. The Joker laughed all the way through his beating. Through Harley's, too. He kept on cackling even when the Boy Blunder burst through the door, having tracked them down via an emergency homing beacon in his partner's utility belt, carelessly left in the other room.

He was still laughing when they got him back to Arkham and started fitting him with a shiny new strait jacket.

x-x-x-x-x

Yep. So that happened. XD Feel free to review, if you like.


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